


Learning to Walk

by Spurlunk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spurlunk/pseuds/Spurlunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes on the long, slow road to recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Walk

"Lady Sif allowed me to practice on her when we were young, it is much easier to learn on someone else, though with the aid of mirrors I became skilled myself."

The Winter Soldier opened his eyes to see a large blond man sitting across from him, carefully braiding his companion's hair in an intricate pattern that wound around her head like a crown. She turned and gave him a small smile.

"Good morning, James. Or rather, good afternoon," she said.

"You must be still," the man said, and she turned her head back to its former position. Bucky blinked and sat up straighter. He was on a train, in a small compartment, his head leaning against the window as he slept. He couldn't remember how he got here, but that was no surprise. He couldn't remember a lot of things that seemed like they should be important, but other memories he could not wash away no matter how hard he tried. Yet he did not feel as though he was in danger, so he elected to wait and observe before making any decisions regarding what he should do next.

"There! You look beautiful, Lady Natasha," the man said, admiring his own handiwork. The redhead smiled again, and the smile was familiar. It was much freer now, and somehow younger, despite the fact that Bucky was sure that he had known her years and years ago.

"Natalia Romanova?" he said, his voice coming out raspy from lack of use.

"Natasha Romanoff, now. Are you hungry?" she asked. He shook his head.

"You must eat! You are far too thin," the man said, thrusting a brown paper bag at him. Bucky took it, he clearly did not have a choice, and opened it to find a couple of slightly squashed peanut butter sandwiches. He opened one and had a couple of bites before setting it aside.

"This is my friend Thor. Thor, this is James Barnes," Natasha said.

"Bucky," he corrected, and Thor grinned.

"It is an honor. Your hair is long, would you like me to braid it for you?" he asked. Bucky shook his head, pushing aside the greasy bangs that hung in his face. Natasha handed him a hair tie from her wrist and he took it, carefully not touching her, and tied his hair up in a small bun, jamming the baseball cap back on over it.

Outside, the landscape did not give him clues as to their location or destination. Nondescript trees, ponds, and graffiti-laden  overpasses meant that they could be anywhere. The last place he remembered being was New York City, so the fact that he was on a train and not a plane meant that they were most likely still in the United States, probably on the East Coast as there were not many trains going cross-country.

"You really should eat, you're so thin." Natasha said. Bucky's stomach felt curled up in on itself with hunger, but the thought of taking another bite made him feel nauseated. When he didn't move, Thor picked up the half-eaten sandwich and handed it back to him. Bucky forced himself to eat. He had no sooner gotten the last crust into his mouth than he felt the nausea threatening to overcome him.

"Bucky - " Natasha began, starting to get to her feet in alarm, but Bucky slammed open the door of their compartment and stumbled the length of the train, banging into the sides as he tried to keep his footing, finally making it to the small, cramped restroom just in time to bring up the contents of his stomach into the sink. Holding on to the metal to keep himself upright, he looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at him. His face was gaunt and drawn, eyes seeming sunken, and with the scruffy beard that was coming in along his jaw, he looked like a homeless person. At least he didn't smell, and his clothes - faded jeans, brown boots, and a gray hoodie - seemed clean enough. Someone knocked on the door.

"Are you unwell?" Thor asked. Bucky turned on the sink and washed his mouth, chunks of the remains of his sandwich pouring down the drain, and opened the door. He made it into the corridor but grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on when a bout of dizziness threatened to overtake him. It happened to be Thor's unusually large bicep. He put an arm around the smaller man's shoulders and helped him back to his seat, where Natasha was on the phone with someone, speaking in low, urgent tones.

"Try to rest, Bucky. We should arrive soon," Thor said, and Bucky obeyed, leaning his head against the window again and letting the steady motion of the train lull him back into a restless sleep.

Bucky hadn't had nightmares in decades. When they froze him in between missions, the state he was in could not really be called sleep. It was more of a stasis, closer to what he imagined death to be than anything else. An absence of everything. The sleep he got now, after his masters were defeated and he was floating, rootless, like dust in the cool autumn breeze, was never peaceful. It was never coherent, and he did not know if he dreamed of things that had happened, things that they made him believe had happened, or things that had never happened at all. 

When he woke up, he had tear tracks running down his face, but he did not remember what he had been crying about. He wiped them away and sat up straighter, ignoring the pounding headache in his temples. He was still on the train, but it was slowing - it must have been that which had woken him up. Natasha had taken down her braid and was doing her makeup, while Thor was texting someone with a small smile on his face. 

"Oh, good, you're up. Pull your hat down low, and walk with me out to the station. Thor will join us at our destination," Natasha said. Thor paid no attention.

"Thor!" Natasha said, and he looked up guiltily from his phone.

"My apologies. I was texting Jane."

"Is she doing well?"

"Yes, she wishes us luck."

The train came to a stop and Natasha stood up, looking expectantly at Bucky. He hesitated - this was not an intelligent decision, going off on an unknown mission with people he did not know when he had no memory of how he came to be in their company. Something in him trusted her, so he took her arm, walking with her out of the train and into the station. The crush of people should have made him feel claustrophobic and uncomfortable, as it had been for the last few days, but walking through them with Natasha by his side felt familiar, though the concentration it took for him to stay on his feet was probably unusual.

"Do you think you're up to taking the Metro, or should I get us a cab?" Natasha asked as they walked. Bucky shook his head.

"Cab, then.

They walked outside and approached the line of cabs, Thor appearing as if out of nowhere to hold the door open for Nataha. Bucky climbed in after her, Thor opting to squeeze in beside them instead of sitting in the front. Bucky was not comfortable with so many people touching him - before they could do anything, he barreled right into Thor, knocking him to the ground to get out of the car.

"Bucky - " Natasha called out, but he was off and running, fueled by nothing but pure adrenaline, dodging and weaving between commuters and tourists as he headed back into the building. He heard footsteps behind him and knew he wouldn't be able to evade his pursuer for long, so he turned, came to a stop, and dodged. Thor was not fooled, and Bucky was a little sluggish, his reflexes slow. The lack of food was getting to him, he felt weak and though he put up a fight Thor was able to subdue him with a minimum of fuss. The police with their dogs did not seem reassured. They began to approach the two men, and Thor moved quickly with Bucky in tow back out to the cab. This time, Thor sat in the front, and Natasha pulled Bucky's head into her lap to keep him in place without appearing as though she was holding him against his will. He dozed, somehow comfortable enough to doze, which felt so familiar though he was not sure why and was too weary to figure it out.

Bucky sat up when the car stopped, stumbling as he walked out of the cab, holding onto the side. They were in front of a large hotel, and as they walked inside, he noticed there was a remarkably large number of older white men in checkered shirts and khaki pants.

"It's a convention. Thor, I'll take Bucky up to Dr. Banner's, do you mind waiting down here?" Natasha asked. Thor acquiesced, walking off to listen to a panel discussion on the effects of radiation on cat fetuses. When they got into the elevator, Bucky was grateful that Thor had not come along for the ride, the small space was already making him a little lightheaded.

"Dr. Banner agreed to see you, I thought you might be more comfortable with him than with anyone else, because he might understand a little more of what you've been through."

"The Hulk?"

"You know him?"

"No," Bucky said. Talking was hard, it was like his mouth was full of cotton and it took an incredible effort to form words. The elevator door dinged and opened onto the twelfth floor, where Natasha took Bucky's arm and escorted him to room 1203. A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair opened the door and nodded at Natasha.

"Good to see you. Come in," he said. The room had a double bed and a view that told Bucky that they were in Washington DC, or at least nearby, since he could see the Washington Monument in the distance.

"You must be Bucky. I'm Bruce. You look exhausted, have you eaten at all today?" he asked. Natasha sat down at the desk chair and swiveled it around so that she was facing them.

"We gave him a sandwich but he couldn't keep it down. I think maybe he's not used to eating food."

"At all?"

"In the Red Room we were always fed, but I don't know what happened once the Winter Soldier changed hands and came under the control of Alexander Pierce."

"Probably fed him through an IV. A sandwich was too much. Do you think you could go down to the lobby and get some soup? Something simple."

"Sure," Natasha said, leaving the room.

"You mind sitting down for a minute and taking off your shirt? Just for a minute, I want to see your shoulder, you're favoring your side so much you must be in pain."

Bucky obeyed without any complaint, he was used to doing as he was told, though he could not remember it ever being phrased as Dr. Banner had just done, as if he had a choice. He unzipped his hoodie and sat on the bed.

"Can I touch your arm?" Dr. Banner asked. Bucky nodded and he walked over, completely ignoring the arm and instead focusing on where the metal met flesh. It was red and inflamed, angry scars raised up from his skin.

"It's infected. You need antibiotics, and I think you have a fever too," he said, pressing the back of his hand to Bucky's forehead. Natasha knocked on the door and then pushed it open, carrying a container of soup and a couple of bottles of Gatorade.

"What's wrong with his arm?"

"I don't understand why they would do this to you - what's the good in giving you a metal arm if you're just going to be in constant discomfort?"

"They froze him in between missions. The infection wasn't worth their time, they only needed him for at most, a week, before they refroze him. I emailed you his file."

"I don't really check my email when I'm not with Tony," Bruce said. 

"I brought chicken noodle soup," Natasha said, handing it to Bucky. He kind of looked at it, and she handed him a spoon.

"Go ahead, it's not poison."

Bucky began to eat, methodically and mechanically, and this time he was able to actually keep it down.

"Does Steve know you're here?" Bruce asked.

"Is he here?" Bucky asked, standing up so fast his head spun a little and his stomach roiled unpleasantly. Bruce put a hand on his good shoulder, gently pushing him back down.

"No, he's with Sam, they were in Belarus looking for you, when I mentioned you were here they got on the first flight, but it will be a while before they arrive," Natasha said, and Bucky allowed himself to be pushed back to his seated position on the bed. He had few sips of Gatorade.

"I'm going to go check on Thor, I'll be back," she said, letting herself out. Bruce sat down on the chair she had vacated, and pulled it over so he was sitting face to face with Bucky.

"You really should see a doctor, a surgeon maybe, to get a better look at your shoulder. I'm not really qualified," Bruce said.

"I can't see him," Bucky said, trying hard not to let Dr. Banner hear the panic in his voice.

"A doctor?"

"Steve," he said, and there was so much emotion in that one word that Bucky felt like he was almost choking on it.

"I know he very much wants to see you."

"I'm not the person he knew."

"He understands that."

"I don't even remember all of the things that I've done. I don't remember where I was yesterday. They put things - in my head, my head's not mine anymore - nothing's mine but it was still me, I'm the one who killed people, tortured people - "

"Steve will be there for you no matter what you've done, you must know that."

There was a short silence.

"How do you - when you're - big and - " Bucky stammered, not sure how to say what he meant.

Dr. Banner shrugged.

"I meditate, do yoga. I spend time with people I care about. I may not be in control of the other guy, but he's still a part of me, and I try to undo the damage by putting out something good into the world to outweigh the bad."

"Maybe I should try yoga." Bucky said.

"Maybe." Dr. Banner replied with a small smile.

"If you want to rest for a while, you can. Nobody else will come in besides Natasha and Thor. You look very tired, you're sick, you should sleep."

"I'd rather not." Bucky said. He felt comfortable talking with Dr. Banner, he had a gentle, calming way about him that was completely at odds with what Bucky had thought he would be like from what he knew about him. But before he could say anything else, the door opened and Thor and Natasha walked in, in the middle of an argument that Bucky could hear before they even came into the room.

"You're supposed to be in disguise!" Natasha said, shutting the door behind them.

"I could not stand idly by, his conclusions were based in false assumptions! I could not allow them to go unchallenged!" Thor exclaimed.

"You could have just found him in the hallway later instead of standing up right in the middle of his presentation and telling him all of the reasons his research is wrong, you know," Natasha replied.

"Give us a few years, we'll catch up to your science, Thor," Dr. Banner said.

"We are thousands of years ahead of you, I'm afraid."

"Humans are gaining on Asgardians fast, though."

Natasha's phone buzzed before the conversation could go any further. She read the text aloud.

"Steve said he and Sam won't get here till tomorrow morning. This hotel's booked up for the convention, so I'm going to go and see if I can get us a room in another hotel. You want to come with us, Bucky?" she asked.

"You can stay here if you want, I can call up for extra pillows and blankets." Dr. Banner offered.

"I can sleep on the floor," Bucky said.

"You sure?" Natasha asked. He nodded.

"I need to go downstairs, I'm supposed to be on a panel starting at six. I'll be back in an hour and we can meet Thor and Natasha for dinner. Sound good?" Dr. Banner asked. Bucky nodded again, and within a matter of moments he was alone in the room. For what felt like the first time in days, he was alone. Bucky made sure the door was locked, turned on the TV and put it on a random channel just for the background noise, and took a blanket and pillow off the bed, curling up on the floor. He wasn't sure he even remembered how to sleep, but it was worth a shot. He was more tired than he could ever remember being, maybe because usually he had a mission or a purpose. This time, he had nothing to focus on. He tried to sleep. It was easier than he thought it was going to be.

Bucky woke up with a start, sitting straight up in bed and gasping for breath. His throat felt raw and he blindly reached around him, his metal arm knocking into a lamp and clattering to the floor, despite his attempt to grab it before it smashed. Thankfully it wasn't broken, he put it back on the nightstand and tried to calm his breathing. He was in the bed, no longer on the floor, and it was dark outside. Night had fallen, he had been asleep for hours. In fact, the first few peeks of dawn were coming over the horizon and through the window blinds.

"You alright?" someone asked, and Bucky swiveled around to see Dr. Banner lying in bed next to him, above the sheets while Bucky was underneath them. He was wearing a gray T-shirt and shorts, his eyes bleary and hair disheveled.

"I don't know," he said, and he suddenly felt like the sheets were strangling him. Bucky threw them off and got out of bed. He walked over to the bathroom and locked the door. Bucky stripped off his clothes and took a shower, untying his hair from the bun it had been in, setting the hair tie gently on the edge of the sink. Once he was clean, he looked at himself in the mirror again. He looked slightly less awful, even the one meal of soup that he'd eaten made him look less gaunt. He rummaged in the shaving kit by the sink and found a pair of small scissors. He hacked off his hair, which took almost an hour, since the scissors were so small and his hair was long. When he was done, he didn't look like the pictures of himself he had seen in the Smithsonian, but he looked a little better. He borrowed Dr. Banner's razor, he figured Bruce wouldn't mind, and only cut himself once, just a little bit. When he was finished, he put his clothes back on and walked into the hotel room - only to find that Bruce was gone, and a tall blond man was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. Bucky froze. His back was turned but he knew who that was, he recognized him instantly. It took everything in him not to go back into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Steve turned around, and the look on his face, the clear and naked hope that was as much a part of him as his inherent goodness, almost broke Bucky's heart. He would never be able to live up to his expectations.

"Bucky? Is it okay if I call you that?" he asked. Bucky nodded. Steve stood up. Bucky didn't meet his eyes.

"They told me you were sick yesterday, are you feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bucky said. He wished Dr. Banner or Natasha, or hell, even Thor was here. It felt wrong to be here with Steve. They didn't fit together anymore. He could tell, even though they hadn't yet touched each other. The last time they'd come into contact with each other Bucky had dragged Steve's limp body out of the Potomac and left him there. Maybe Steve remembered more, but Bucky was never sure if he was remembering things that he had read or seen at the exhibit, what he had been programmed to believe, or what had actually happened.

"You look good, Bucky." Steve said.

"I look like shit," he mumbled in response.

"I bring breakfast!" Thor said, opening the door carrying a tray of coffees and a box of donuts. Natasha followed, carrying a duffel bag, and Bruce followed, looking a little rumpled but no worse for wear, considering he'd been woken up way too early by Bucky screaming. The handsome young man with the easy smile that Bucky remembered flying on metal wings brought up the rear, carrying a backpack. The small room was very full and loud as Thor distributed donuts and coffees to whoever wanted some. Natasha came over to Bucky and handed him a CVS bag.

"I don't know if donuts and coffee would be good for you right now, so I brought granola bars, orange juice, water and oatmeal," she said. Bucky took a bottle of orange juice and a granola bar, walking out to the balcony. Natasha joined him with a chocolate donut of her own, and the two of them stood next to each other, leaning over the railing. They were high enough up that all that it was almost completely silent the faint noises of traffic the only things wafting up to join them.

"Do you remember when we were together?" she asked him.

"Sometimes."

"You know that you can't do anything to make Steve stop loving you, right?" Natasha said. Bucky sighed.

"I can't be who he wants me to be."

"I don't know if you remember this, but you spent your entire childhood, looking out for Steve. When you were kids, when you were fighting, you've always been there for him. Maybe now he wants to be there for you."

"He defended me more than I defended him. I just had to go in there and rescue his sorry ass more often than not."

Natasha smiled, her hair ruffling in the breeze.

"See, you look more like a person when you talk about him, I haven't seen you this animated since you trained me."

"The Red Room."

"That's right. We were together for almost two years before they took you away."

"We killed so many people together."

"Had fun doing it, too." Natasha replied with a small, sad smile. Someone knocked on the glass balcony door and the two of them turned around to see Thor waving at them.

"Dr. Banner has to check out of this hotel in one hour, we should leave so he can pack his things," he said.

"Where?" Bucky asked. Natasha led the way back into the hotel room, where Sam and Steve were in quiet conversation and Dr. Banner was packing his things.

"I thought maybe you could come home with me." Steve said when Bucky walked in. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with this, but he couldn't bear to let Steve down, and anyway he wasn't sure he had any other option.  He looked at Natasha and Thor. Natasha nodded at him.

"I am eager to return to Jane."

"Jane is his girlfriend." Natasha explained.

"Soon to be my wife." Thor said proudly, holding out his finger to show a simple silver ring on his finger.

"Congratulations," Bucky said, and Thor smiled and thanked him.

"See you around, James," Natasha said, putting her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before following Thor out the door.

"You ready? I'm Sam, by the way, you might remember me from when you were trying to kill me a few weeks ago."

"Sorry," Bucky said.

"Make sure you eat right, and don't overexert yourself. Try to go see a doctor about your shoulder, the infection will only get worse if it goes untreated," Dr. Banner said.

"We'll make sure he gets that looked at. Thank you for letting us interrupt your conference, Dr. Banner."

"It was no problem at all, Steve. Take care," he said. He looked tired, and Bucky briefly wondered where he was going to go from here.

"Thank you," Bucky told him, and then let Steve and Sam walk him out the door.

Apparently soon after the Winter Soldier had been set loose in the city, Steve had no longer wanted to stay in his apartment, so he packed up all of his things and took them over to Sam's place in Rosslyn. They hadn't really spent any time there, since soon after they took off to search for Bucky, so Steve apologized as they walked into the small but cheery, well-lit apartment.

"I never really got a chance to do anything with my boxes, I apologize for the mess," Steve said, pushing a few out of the way.

"You hungry, Bucky?" Sam asked. Bucky shook his head and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"What do you want to do?" Steve asked. Bucky shrugged.

"How about we watch a movie?" Sam suggested, and when no one objected to this he went into the living room and turned on the TV. Bucky sat on the couch, and Steve sat on the other side, carefully keeping a distance between himself and Bucky. Sam just sat down in between them, seemingly oblivious, and Bucky didn't flinch when his arm brushed Sam's. He kicked his shoes of and put his feet on the coffee table. Bucky was more rigid, he could not seem to make himself relax. He had no idea what happened in the movie and could not tell you even the name of it when it finished a couple of hours later. Sam and Steve talked through parts of it, but Bucky didn't pay attention. When it was over, he got up so fast it was like he was a jack in a box, spring-loaded.

"I'll be back," he said, and ignored Steve's worried face, walking out the door.

He couldn't handle how careful Steve was being, he couldn't handle how much Steve cared about him, how clear it was that he would do anything for him, how accomodating he was - even though he hadn't really done anything, it was just the looks he gave him - Bucky couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle the possibility of letting Steve down. He might not remember much but he always knew that Steve was as important to him as he was to Steve. He wanted to spare Steve this. He had nowhere else to go.

Bucky spent the entire day aimlessly wandering around. He walked over the bridge into Georgetown, stopping to look over at the gray water below, lapping against the shore. When people began to give him looks he started moving again, losing himself in the crowds of young, well dressed consumers. Eventually he sat down for a while on the steps of a small church, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair anxiously. When someone tossed a dollar in his hat he realized they thought he was a homeless person, and put his hat back on. He stood up again and kept moving. The more he walked the less he had to think.

It was growing dark when he thought he should go back. In fact, he was surprised that he had gone so long out and about without someone coming to look for him. Probably Sam had told Steve to give him space. He seemed like the type to say something like that.

He was cutting through a back alley when he heard the noises of a struggle. They were sounds he was intimately familiar with, as he had so often been the one causing them. He went over to investigate and saw two large men beating up another, one of them viciously kicking while the other held the victim in place. Bucky did not bother with words. He grabbed one of the men by the back of his neck and pulled him away, throwing him against the wall. He fought back of course, but one well-aimed punch to the gut with Bucky's metal arm was enough to take him out, and the other man simply took off running once he saw things were no longer going his way. Bucky helped the young man to his feet. His face was bloody and swollen, and he walked now with a limp.

"Are you alright?" Bucky asked.

"I think I need to go to the hospital," he said. Bucky put his arm around the teenager and went with him the few blocks. Thankfully they were close enough to walk to the hospital, and when the boy asked Bucky to stay with him, he did. Hospitals made him nervous, and he made sure that his hoodie sleeves covered his arm completely as he sat in the waiting room, his leg jiggling. When the boy came out, bandaged and cleaned up, he grabbed Bucky in a hug that he had not been expecting.

"Thank you so much, for rescuing me and then staying with me. It means a lot. I called my mom, she's coming to get me," he said.

"You're welcome. Stay safe," Bucky said, patting the kid on the back and then heading off on his way.

When he knocked on the door to Sam's apartment, Steve pulled it open so fast that Bucky knew his friend had been waiting for him.

"You came back," he said.

"Of course," Bucky replied.

"You two gonna come inside or stand there in the doorway all night?" Sam called out from inside the apartment.

"I can't stay here." Bucky said.

"What? Why?"

"It's - I need some time. I need to figure things out."

Steve looked hurt, but he was trying to hide it and failing. Bucky felt awful for doing this to him, but it was better this than the fallout from the inevitable conflict that would ensue if they stayed together in this small apartment. Bucky was afraid that Steve would find out just how barely he had himself under control all the time. Bucky was afraid that Steve would be woken up by his nightmares, and blame himself for it. He didn't want that for Steve.

Bucky could hear Sam moving things around in the living room just beyond Steve, and he then walked up to hand a ring of keys to Bucky. Steve didn't seem to know what to do with himself.

"These are the keys for Steve's old place. It's empty, but the furniture's still there." Sam said. Bucky nodded and took them.

"If you need anything - money, or food, or - " Steve began, finding his words again, but Bucky shook his head.

"Don't worry too much, Steve. I'll be back." Bucky said. He smiled for the first time, and it felt strange, but the worried lines on Steve's forehead softened, and Bucky grabbed his friend in a hug, letting go so quickly that Steve didn't have a chance to hug him back.

"I know you will. You're with me till the end of the line."

"Till the end of the line," Bucky repeated, and met Steve's eyes before turning and heading down the hallway. He didn't look back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I worked very hard on this and I'm still not satisfied with how I ended it. I am very attached to the idea of Bucky finding himself while fighting crime on a small-scale level before he can pull himself together enough to be in a place to rekindle his relationship with Steve. 
> 
> Thanks to Kelly and strudelgroot for looking this over and helping me out!


End file.
